Hear
Susy hummed along with the music as she worked, the steady *tap tap tap* of the hammer on the back of her needle stick matching the speed – not the rhythm, thankfully – of the fast song blaring in her shop. Her new hand was steady enough to hold the needles still, but not agile enough to move as she needed. So, it was relegated to the steady tapping of her needles, while her flesh and blood right hand moved the needles along the drawn line she was inking.
She was thankful that one of her regulars, a large and heavily tattooed bloke from Limsa, volunteered to let her practice on him with her new appendage. It was taking her longer to relearn to tattoo with two hands, a feat she hadn’t expected considering how quickly she had picked up the act one-handed after her maiming nearly a year ago.Quinn was kneeling behind her, looking over her shoulder as she worked. It was easier to explain the process to her budding apprentice now that she could show him how it was done – she’d never been good with just explaining with words, and the ridiculousness of her tattooing one-handed wasn’t something he’d quickly pick up himself. She smiled; she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and his hand on her tail.
Feel
Susy blinked, pausing for a moment to look up. She knew most of the songs on the orchestrion by heart by now; it was her normal playlist for when she worked, loud and heavy beats at a quick pace that helped keep her focused and working her needles quickly. She wiped sweat off her brow with her sleeve and bent back down over her client to continue on.
Think…
Susy screamed, her vision filled with blood and torment. The world closed around her, and her horns shook as the music warped into a chaos. Harmonies drowned out by disorder. Words distorted into painful cries and enraged howling. Her vision began to tunnel, but there was only a shaft of darkness inside the blood red that filled her. She brought a hand up to her horn and tugged, begging for the noise to stop…
She blinked, and realized she was gasping for breath. Quinn’s hand was on her shoulder, and she blinked again; she was bent over the railing that had been behind her, as if she had been stopped from throwing herself over it. He was saying something, begging in her native tongue, but he still sounded malms away, and as if underwater.
She turned around and fell into his arms, shuddering. She wiped her hands on his shirt – she wasn’t sure why they were wet – and surprised herself when she saw it was blood. She looked down, then let out a startled gasp.
Her client was sitting up, looking at her with fright (an impressive feat, for the large Roegadyn), and covering a bleeding wound on his chest. The handle of her tattoo needles poked out from between his fingers where it had been buried in his chest.
Quinn was saying something else, his lips close to her horn, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling away. He gently moved her to the ground to sit, fussing over her, kissing the top of her head. He called down for help, and eventually he got their client out of the way.
All Susy could focus on was the chaos of oblivion she had just witnessed.
